Little Hats Italian Market

Little Hats Italian Market feels like one of those spots born from equal parts nostalgia and hunger—a place that smells like cured meat, olive oil, and Sunday afternoons at someone’s Nonna’s house. Counters stacked with cold cuts, shelves lined with cans you recognize from childhood or from a trip you once took to the East Coast. It’s loud, warm, and unapologetically Italian in all the ways that matter.

The spicy Italian sandwich was the first hit—layers of salami, capicola, and pepperoni folded into a roll that cracked just slightly when you bit into it. Sharp, salty, and with that slow-building heat that makes you take a long breath afterward. No shortcuts, no wilted lettuce, none of that sad deli nonsense—just real ingredients stacked like someone cared.

The traditional Italian followed the same gospel but leaned classic instead of fiery. A harmony of cold cuts, provolone, oil, and vinegar. Simple. Sharp. Perfect. The kind of sandwich that tastes like it belongs wrapped in butcher paper and eaten leaning against a brick wall somewhere in Jersey.

The meatballs came swimming in red sauce—gentle, soft, seasoned the right way, no breadcrumbs pretending to be flavor. Just beef, pork, herbs, and time. The Italian wedding soup felt like a hug from someone who knows you too well—tiny meatballs, greens, tender pasta in broth that tasted like it had been coaxed into existence over hours, not poured from a box.

And then, breaking all the rules in the best way, a strawberry goat cheese salad—bright, tangy, and fresh. A palate cleanser disguised as a dish, reminding you that Italian food isn’t just red sauce and nostalgia. There’s lightness in the tradition, too.

Little Hats isn’t a restaurant trying to prove anything. It’s a market with heart. A place that feeds you the way Italian food should—generously, loudly, and with enough flavor to linger long after you’ve stepped back out into Nashville.